The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1887-04-27

o. can't git erlong wid er hog eye,
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can't git erlong wild er hog eve gal,
An can't git erlong wild er hog eye.
Gated Miss Sue to de ball las night,
Sot 'er down to suppah,
She tainted n oyah de table fell
An stuck 'er nose in de buttah.
Can't git erlorg wild er hog eye,
Can't Kit eriong wild er hog eve,
Can't git erloDg wild er hog eye gal,
An can't git erlong Wild er hog eye. .,
Sent TO de doctah to foteh er TO,
An he WIS sumpn latah,
She stuck er tn key bone n 'er eye,
N got choke TO deaf or er tatah.
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye,
Can git erlODg wild er hog eye.
Can't git erlong wild er hog eye gal,
An can't git erlong wild er hog eye.
AS the hill grew smaller the exertions
were redoubled. Bows too small to shuck
corn were busted with baskets carrying
the shucks to the tall rall-pens, and many
were the wrestling matches they would
have among the yielding shucks as they
trampled them down in the pens. The
master of the house, and generally the
ladies and some OF the neighboring plant
ers, would assemble at q little distance and
enjoy the corn shocking and the wild
songs quite as much as the negroes. AT
length the pile would grow so small that
the laborers would strike up their Supper
song"
o, forty weight er Johnny cake,
An fifty weight er cheese,
An er big pot er hominy,
er little pot er pease.
O,Jenny: amt yo ash cake done, my
Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my
deah?
An I went to de rivah.
An couldn't git ercross,
An give five dOllaghs TO n ole bline boss.
o, Jenny. amt 20 ash cake done, my da'.
Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my deah?
Big ole buzza'd er fiyin by:
Seize, "Ole man, 20 boss III die"
An eff e dies I'll tan is skin.
N ef he lives I'll ride i'm ergin.
o, Jenny, amt 20 ash cake done, my da'
Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my deah?
Sol my boss in Tennessee,
N his iawbone come back to me,
An de Jawbon popped on de marrer few
Highs my head, an higher too.
o, Jenny, amt 20 ash cake done, my da'-
Jenny, amt yo' ash cake done, my dsah?
There would be scramble for the last
ear, and when it was stripped of its husk
and tossed on the pile they would make a
rush for the master, and, lifting him, a
willing captive, to their shoulders, they
nOuAO Tue COEn plAS.
singing. yelling, dancing and laughing IN
til they were tired out.
"Trest, boss, treat" would then be the
cry, and the Old brown jug would be
passed, and long and deep were the
draughts they made.
Under the shadows of the great honey
locust trees long tables were set, and
heaped and piled in prodigal hospitality
were the homely vIands OF the plantations,
with a generous share of the "knick-
knacks" and goodies of the white folks
table.
"Quit dar, now. Ak de blessin', Pepper
Joe," and then the venerable supernumer-
airy would take his place at the head OF the
table.
"Good Lo'd mex us tankfu' TO- wot we
bout to receive, an bress de missis an de
massa an all yo' chillen, TO- Ch'is sake,
amen"
Then there was such clatter of knives
and forks and such merry peals of laughter
that one unacquainted with the state OF
affairs could never have dreamed that they
were slaves. Supper over, the darkies
| would assemble in the front yard, and
after few song and dances they would dis
perse. and their mellow voices could be
heard for long distance as they tramped
homeward through the woods.
Such, was an old-time corn shocking,
now grown almost obsolete in the South.